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Saturday, August 31, 2013

Shoes of Glass: Pledge - A Short Story Challenge

It's experiment time again, because I enjoy those. They let me figure things out, come to better understandings and try out things that need to be seen to be appreciated.

They also tend to queue inane rambling but I've been working to keep that to a minimum of late. That doesn't mean there won't be any, though, and the header for this sampled story challenge is one of them.

Nah screw it, I'll do that tomorrow. It'll mark six months since I started publishing, so I intended to write some retrospective thoughts anyway. Instead I'll talk a bit about this story and what it's doing here. I think I've said it just about every time but I enjoy connecting with people that enjoy what I do. Sometimes that's really hard, and as much a matter of chance, time and place as someone being comfortable about coming forward, so it's understandable. I'll talk more about personal crap later.

Short version: Got talking with some good people, some discussion for a story premise of a femdom that finds and seduces a man into a world of accepting and enjoying cross-dressing and clothing was made. I really enjoyed the direction and initial thoughts behind it, so it became a sure thing that I said is happening, and here we are.

Across a courtyard of youth in the early afternoon sun, a
breeze carried the scent of pollen and sounds of life to high windows, wafting
into vacant rooms and ruffling light curtains. The breeze carried a breath of
change. To one such room, the breeze greeted a young woman with raven-black
hair brushing her cheeks and sharp, dark brown eyes that glowered at the
intrusion.

She had come here to be alone for the time being before the
afternoon’s swim session began, and didn’t care for the whimsical company of
the outside. It was not so much the gentle summer breeze that bothered the girl
as the distraction and reminder of how pleasant everything was. An air reminded
her of things no longer as pleasant as they should have been.

“Must be nice, to still have wings.” She sighed out
quietly, brushing the cheek of the small doll in her hands before tugging on
its gown, sewing in a seam and removing a pin. Her face was a mask of focus and
attention, for all her hands seemed to struggle with the sheer fabrics.
Tightening and fixing the last petticoat snuggly onto the small mannequin’s
shoulders, she stopped to take another look.

It was a beautiful work; layers of strawberry pink silk
slashed with whites in a number of pleats to make up a luminous and flowing
bottom, wrapped in a cream sash centred by a rose buckle. Above the waist, a
traditional corset overlain with frilly billows of sheer white cotton hugged
the form to give it the trim, buttoned front bordered by more of the supple
pink overcoats that built the body of the dress. A lady’s fan covered porcelain
cheeks and unblemished lips, framed by beautiful golden reams of hair and
bright blue glass eyes.

For all its small scale, the attention to detail it held
spoke of its owner’s ability and love for the craft.

It was a thing of fairy tales, a heartfelt little work of
art, but one tinged with hopelessness, as they often seemed to be. The dress,
the doll, and her hobby for the craft in all were little more than a dream she
struggled to even work on. Winter had been a nightmare for Erica Nylund, one
she was still in process of recovering from, physically and mentally.

Throughout the building, an intercom sounded its familiar
pin-pon-pan-pon, chiming the end of sessions and start of the new. That meant
it was time for her to head to the pool. Sighing in vexation, Erica picked up
the bag tucked under her seat and carefully set her doll-work and needle case
into it. Slinging the bag strap over her head to rest on the left shoulder,
leaving it to dig into her breasts uncomfortably, she picked up the crutch
almost hidden away beside the table.

Crutch underarm with the bag to balance, the lonesome girl
made her way out of the uniform room into a uniform white hall, and it down
under sickly dim lighting through the building, descending to the ground floor
in one of many elevators.

Pin-pon-pan-pon.

“Shut up already.” Erica muttered, closing her eyes and
ignoring the announcing chime. Down two floors, Erica moved with an accustomed
autonomy, turning on a limp supported by the crutch down the hall. When Erica
finally arrived at the pool facility, the changing room was as vacant as was to
be expected. Everyone had already changed and moved on, leaving her to the
solace she’d come to prefer. Undressing silently and packing her things into
the bag she’d brought with her, Erica carried on with her crutch to the shower
room naked, leaving the aide to one side.

Under warm jets of water, Erica’s sigh was less of
exasperation and more of relief, her smile more relaxed and natural beneath
closed eyes. This was one of the few things that truly calmed and soothed her,
beyond needlework – a sense of cleanliness and warmth. Under the drumming of
water, feeling it trace down her body, matting her dark hair to the nape of her
neck before riveting into the smooth of her back and around her supple breasts,
she could feel at ease.

Downward it trailed, meeting the slender curve of her waist
and stomach to curl around the accentuated curves and gnarled ridges. The
stitches in her side caused any streams to filter into smaller rivets and
disperse before merging back into one stream around the thigh. It became no
smoother beyond that point, leaving her fingers to caress the marring scars,
hiding them with those across her forearm.

Touching them always reminded her of the day, a flash of
terror in the back of her mind that would as likely always haunt her. She
accepted it for all she was able, but alone under the hot water’s embrace, she
felt more at peace from the constant reminder.

Balancing with one foot forward, one jutted inward and a
hand rested against the wall, Erica soaked in the warmth and peace of the
shower, letting the water and steam – if only for the moment – wash away and
hide what she felt was a hideous visage.

“If only it were so easy as to wash away.” Erica breathed,
the dousing of water hiding the tears that streaked her face, but unable to
mask the breaking of her voice. Balling her fist, she punched the pure white of
the tiles. Nothing. No flinch, recoil or stab of pain ran up her arm. Her hand
fell away, knuckles red from bruising, yet she felt nothing.

“If only.” She breathed, wiping her eyes and cheeks regardless
of the shower wiping her face clean. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t feel
the tears for the shower, she would live out the motions to feel something.

Leaving the shower stall carefully, careful of the wet tiles
and limping her weight onto the right foot until she had the crutch, she walked
naked back into the changing room. What greeted her almost threatened to sweep
her crooked feet out from under her more than the wet tiles ever had. A man was
there, perhaps no older than herself, seemingly looking for something. Erica
treaded carefully on light feet, using the padded base of her crutch to sneak
from spot to spot and peek around sets of lockers.

It gave her time to look him over, gauge what he was up to
and whether she could confront him. Handsome to a point, his physique almost
made her wonder on his age. It almost seemed he hadn’t finished puberty, but
everyone on campus was over eighteen.

Slender, almost small. Erica found herself wondering about
his measurements, how a tunic would hug those less defined shoulders and tuck
down to his waistline the way the simple drab of a shirt he had on would never
do.

Really, he seemed to have no sense for dress and properness,
but then if he did, he would not be in the women’s changing room, seemingly searching
for something. Erica’s complexion went pale in the next moments, a clenching
twist grabbing her stomach. So intent had she been on sizing the boy up and
considering his sizes that she hadn’t paid attention to where he was or what he
was doing. He was in front of her bag, and was it not for her legs; Erica would
have bolted out to lunge on him.

A cold, calculating vice grip won over her senses. No matter
that he had the black lace of her panties out of her bag, pressing his fingers
into the trim line almost wonderingly, she would be calm, collected, and murder
the damn pervert before he knew she was there.

“These can’t be hers, like hell she’d have this brand.
They’re not even her size.” The intruding boy muttered to himself as she drew
closer, leaving Erica to raise a brow. He knew of the name? And what did he
mean ‘not her size’, did he think her fat? Not murder, she’d torture him. She
could see him tied wrist to ankle already, a heel of one of her knee-high
leather boots in his rib as she dripped candle wax and laughed at his pleading
groans, muffled by a ball gag.

Erica was breathing faster, and almost fell forward in shock
from it. Why had that aroused her so? Why had she made it seem so perversely
sexual? The confusion turned to frustration, sending a lance of pain up her leg
as it took too much pressure in her next step. That did make her wince and cry
out, causing the startled intruder to turn on the spot to see who it was.

That was bad. Very bad. Erica was standing naked but for the
scars and stitches. The last thing she needed was some pervert seeing her body.
Adrenaline dulled the pain and saw her launch forward in a thoughtless craze,
swinging her crutch for him. With a blurred expletive, the boy she had dubbed
pervert dodged and lowered his head.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Erica shouted,
swinging her crutch back and down to where he’d tried to evade her. The tip
clacked with the ground and vibrated up her arm as he scuttled away, holding up
hands pleadingly as Erica raged. She had grown used to manoeuvring on a single
foot, balancing and throwing her weight like a pivot, and turned to meet him
again, lunging with her whole body to pin him against the row of lockers.

Erica felt the impact in her shoulders, her damp breasts
pressing in against him as surely as her crutch lay lengthways across his neck.
He really was a little frail to have folded under her lunge that hard, leaving
her to soak the inertia, but she’d stopped him, now. Now her head could clear
of that haze and leave her to look him over and consider the consequences.

“Who the hell are you?” Erica asked through ragged breaths,
her sharp brown eyes staring daggers into the gentler, deer-in-headlights blue
of his. Short blonde hair framed those eyes from either side, a soft trim
arching over the top. He really did seem to be a little more cute than
handsome, now that she could actually see him.

“Daniel, this is all a misunderstanding!”

“Oh sure, I’m misunderstanding a man in the women’s
changing room with my underwear in his hand. What could I be thinking?” Erica
retorted, her voice as sharp and sinister as the look in her eyes. Daniel could
almost see himself being bound and whipped in the reflection of those eyes. He
could see as likely being skinned alive now, though.

“Those are yours? Oh…” He replied, seeming to try and
glance down. Erica couldn’t decide whether in shame or to try and picture them
on her. Her response instead was to glare wide-eyed and shove the crutch
against his neck before pushing him around.

“Turn around and face the wall so I can get dressed. Rather
not deal with some damn pervert naked.” Erica grumbled, swallowing back a flair
of something a little different. Was she embarrassed around him? Snatching up
her panties, Erica glowered at his back and resisted the urge to stab her
crutch into him. So long as he didn’t look.

Rather than slip into her swimming suit, Erica got back into
her normal jeans, long-sleeved shirt and boots. Perhaps not very girly, she
knew, but she didn’t care to show off her skin, so far as folding her arms to
comfort and hide her hands.

“Well, I hope you’ve thought up a way to explain yourself.”
Erica declared, watching the boy across from her. He didn’t turn around, which
somehow pleased her. Leaning on her crutch, it almost felt like taking pleasure
from submission to her order and power over the boy as anything. An interesting
thought.

“Sorry, it was my sister. She asked me to go put her bag
away since she’d forgotten, said the locker key was in it and the changing room
would be empty.” He explained, leaving Erica to tut softly.

“Oh, so that would make it alright to go through another
girl’s things and comment on her underwear being too big, huh?” Erica retorted,
and then he did turn around, his eyes setting on her more sternly.

“I am sorry, but bigger is better!” Was his response,
leaving her to stare dumbfounded for a moment before shaking her head.

“You’re an idiot. What’s her name, then? I’ll at least stop
you going through every girl’s vacant bag. Pervert.” Erica muttered, righting
herself and leaning on the crutch for support.

“Ah, uh, Sarah, Sarah Wiltz.”

“Ah, I know her. Pretty girl. I suppose we do have similar
bags.” Erica reasoned, if reluctantly, working her way through the changing
room to find the other girl’s bag. It wasn’t far. Had she placed hers
differently or he had better judgement, it was as likely the pair would have
never met. An odd pull of fate. Erica found the key in short order, handing it
to the boy with an unimpressed glower about her.

“Thanks, and I’m sorry again for looking at your things.”
He prostrated, and Erica didn’t let go of the key. Her things? More than just
her underwear? Had Alice taken his interest, too?

“Uh, please?” Daniel asked, tugging on the key before she
tugged back, harder.

“Tonight – I don’t care what you were doing before, come to
my room, 307 in the dorm block nearby. Not far.” Erica explained, pulling him
closer until she could feel his nervous breathes on his lips. “If you don’t, I
will make this trouble for you. You can call me Erica, for now.” She whispered,
releasing the key to watch him stagger back as if he’d been struck. Somehow,
that made her want to smile, too.

Forgoing her exercise session, Erica instead returned to her
dorm. She needed time to think, and prepare. To say things escalated in the
coming hours, when Daniel finally arrived would have been an understatement.

Sat back in the single high chair of her room, Erica lounged
with her head rested on a hand, legs crossed with a foot raised. She had changed,
and now sat in a simple black tunic and skirt number. It hugged and tucked her
breasts together behind a sheer fabric that rose to her neck, lined with a soft
white lace frill.

The snugness of it squeezed and pushed her chest up every
time she sighed or moved too much, but she enjoyed that about it as much as how
it concealed everything in long, underlying sleeve-gloves and a skirt that
dipped to her thigh. It was short, relatively, but long enough to show a few
inches of unblemished skin before being hugged by the supple silk stockings.

Near opaque, the leggings covered the rest of her and gave
an even alluring shine till digging into the plump of her thigh. It was down
there, gently cradling and brushing the ankle of her foot with tender kisses,
that Daniel knelt. Erica had prepared, weaving a plan to ensnare and use him
for her own amusement as payment for seeing, even feeling her naked and going
through her things. She had little ground to stand on, but as luck had it, the
boy was gullible enough to accept to her logic and wishes. Now she could tie a
proper noose.

“You like it that much?” Erica asked, her tone noncommittal
and uninterested. The boy’s lips were pressing up and down around the ankle,
brushing her calf with light kisses as his nose and cheek rubbed her leg. Were
his hands not bound in a tight leather buckle, latched and locked to the
spreader bar that kept his legs apart, she imagined his hands would be all over
her, too.

That would have been bad, and almost made Erica cringe with
the thought. She didn’t need him rubbing and etching out all her scars.
Glancing down at him warily, Erica moved her leg away from his caress to push
the sole of her foot into his face. He still didn’t complain.

“Pervert.” Erica muttered, pulling the foot away to lower
it down and press into his chest. “Sit back.” She ordered, digging and rubbing
the toes into his broad chest. He was a little more handsome and well built
without clothes on, she had to admit, and left her foot to roam back and forth,
like her hand might have.

For all the boy blushed and squirmed, he did concede to her
wishes, still. There was something odd about him in that respect, but it didn’t
matter right now. She wanted to see him squirm, and lowered her foot further.
Her first move – after ensuring he was convinced she could cause trouble over
the ordeal and had guilted him into repaying her – was to strip him so that he
might be as naked as he’d seen her, regardless of how much he’d actually seen.

Then she’d offered him the panties he’d been fingering to
wear. He’d protested, of course, but Erica had assured him he’d enjoy it, and
it was what she wanted. He was in no position to argue. Her foot reached those
panties, pressing and nudging the head of his cock with curled toes inquisitively.
The little gasp and tug on the binding bars he gave put a glint in her eyes.

“You liked that, too? Honestly…” Erica murmured in
mock-disgust, grinding her toes down the hardening ridge behind her
frill-tipped black panties. He really was getting turned on. If he wasn’t
locked up on his knees, Erica would have blustered and panicked in fear and
shame at seeing his cock swell up, but she felt nothing of that – only power.
She was safe to do as she pleased without him being able to move.

The quelled fear instead twisted and warped into a thrill,
for her. Were he able to turn on her, he could easily overpower her with no one
to stop the lust in his crotch overtaking her. The thought of that in itself
made Erica shiver, but would not happen. She was above him, and he locked
helplessly at her mercy. Uncurling her toes, Erica rubbed downward, grinding
his crotch against the ball of her foot. Daniel gave off another quiet whimper
of a sigh and as good as bucked into the caress of her foot.

“You really are getting turned on by this, aren’t you…?”
Erica asked, the only response a turn away and flustering blush from the boy.
Erica’s eyes sharpened, her foot digging in with a firm lunge under the boy’s
crotch.

“Aren’t you?” She asked again, with emphasis enough to make
him gasp.

“Aah! Y-yes!” He finally gave, his voice so ashamed and
soft. It made her smile again, and pulled her foot away from the uncomfortable
position to lean forward out of her throne of a chair, touching his cheek and
chin with her gloved fingers.

“Do me a favour, would you?” Erica asked, quietly and
sweetly.

“Wh-what…?” Daniel responded, hesitant and wary of the
wicked woman. The glimmer in her eyes and thoughtful press of her lips said he
may yet live to regret any and all of this, but she did things to his head that
made it hard to think straight. Eventually those lips he somehow wanted to get
closer to opened again, her voice an even quieter whisper, barely audible.

“Call me Mistress.”

Just like that, she said it. Locked up as good as naked on
his knees, he stared speechless. ‘You’re a witch’ was what he wanted to say,
but the words would not dare leave his mind. His whole body, especially his
groin, throbbed with some disturbed excitement at being bound and toyed with by
the woman. Had he really wanted her to abuse him so much? How did it feel this
good? He didn’t know, all he could think of was a single word and the weight
behind it.

“Mistress…”

Erica’s lips twitched, stretched and curled as if it was the
first time they’d done such a thing. Erica moved her hand, petting Daniel’s
head, and she smiled. The simple sight of it was a wonder, the sound of the
word on his lips a thrill of its own. He was enjoying this. His cock was also
almost painfully erect against the soft frill of the panties.

“Sit still.” Erica ordered, bringing her foot back up to
smother and press against his crotch. The silken smoothness of her thick
stockings met his shaft again, rubbing and moulding the soft underside of her
foot around his stiffened cock. Embarrassing as it was, he couldn’t deny the
rubbing of her foot was very stimulating, and his body was responding honestly
to the soft rub back down with just a little more force.

It almost felt as if she was stepping on him and putting him
so far under her as to be smothered and walked on. Something so humiliating
shouldn’t feel so sensual and erotic, but he couldn’t help how the feeling left
him throbbing and grinding against the foot with soft sighs of relief. It
wasn’t stopping, either.

Rather, Erica’s foot was grinding and pressing harder,
faster and more fluidly. Daniel’s breath caught as he realised it, but lounged
back like a Queen in her throne, Erica was stroking him off with her foot. She
seemed enthralled by the act, her lips twisted into a subtle, ever-present
smile as that soft sheen stroked and pressed at his rigid cock teasingly,
pulling the lace of her panties down properly.

Seeing the dark head pop out from behind the panties – she
hadn’t stared at him during her command to strip, and nor was it so big when
she had – made Erica bite her lip and shift in her seat. It was just her foot,
and he was still locked up, but she was touching a real cock, there was no way
of squirming around the fact. Keeping it at leg’s reach and knowing the boy was
bound helped, but the rush from sexually dominating him this way was exciting.

“Hmm, getting so hard from my foot rubbing you, does it
really feel that good?” Erica asked, a mixture of honest curiosity – she knew
the stockings felt good to touch and stroke – and a mocking tone of humiliating
him to deflect her own embarrassment. It still shocked her a little in an
exciting, indecent way that she was getting him hard at all, never mind with
something so debased as her foot, so she wasn’t going to pass up on relaying
that sensation. Talking dirty and shaming him felt too good to be decent, too.

“Haah, y-yes, Mistress.” Daniel blustered in a near
whisper, making Erica’s breath catch and lip tug in quietly as she curled and
splayed her toes over the warmth of his sensitive cock head. Hearing him use
the name again, while she teased and talked down to him made it feel all the
more real, and sent a quiver of pleasure up her spine.

Toes spread, splaying to either side of the cleft to rub
down its sides. Erica’s stocking stuck on the head, tenting and masking it in a
silky sheen till the tugging and rubbing was enough to pull it away. Instead,
the dextrous toes pinned the veiny girth between her big toe and the rest,
rubbing and squeezing like her hand might with the thumb down one side.

“You’re a hopeless pervert, you know that?” Erica asked,
lazily reaching over the side of her chair for her phone on the desk, the
artificial shutter sound making it very clear what she was doing with it. “I
wonder what your sister would think.” She mused, lowering the phone but keeping
it nearby to go back to focusing on the playful footjob.

“Y-you wouldn’t, please!” Daniel spluttered near immediately,
squirming and tugging on his restraints and managing little more than to rock
and shake himself on the spot. It was now, in little displays like this that
Erica felt the most powerful, the biggest rush of pleasure over dominating him,
and laughed softly.

“Maybe I would, maybe I won’t. I’ll agree to keep it our
little secret if you will.” Erica offered, smiling and leaning forward intently
to see his reaction as his cock throbbed and pulsed between her toes. The
instep of her foot behind the toes was starting to feel a little damp and
sticky, glistening with precum. Another shiver of how indecent it was ran up
her leg to ball in her stomach. Nothing had ever felt this good for knowing it
was bad and naughty.

“Yes, Mistress, I won’t tell anyone, so please…” Daniel
pleaded, broadening her smile as she hushed softly and disengaged her foot,
letting his shaft slap her foot with its monstrous girth. Daniel wasn’t
especially big, but Erica had little experience with the things, and the
on-edge thrill of toying with him so intimately had a way of warping
perspective.

“Relax, your crossdressing foot fetish secret safe with me,
pervert.” Erica teased, smirking and giggling softly as she brought her other
foot up to lay over the cock marking her stocking with its pearly precum.
Pressing down sandwiched the length between the soft of her sole and firmness
of the foot under it, all wrapped in the silken caress of her stockings. As
strange as it was, it must have felt wonderful for him, the strange mix of
surfaces and knowing it was her feet only added to the illicit pleasure.

“Haah, I c-can’t help it.” Daniel whined through ragged and
sharp breathes while she watched him, drawing her feet back and forth on the
over and under as if to let him fuck the snug gap between them.

“Mmm? Trying to give Mistress excuses now, are you? Naughty
boy.” Erica purred, shifting her feet to pin his cock under a firm heel and
grind there, enjoying the much louder groan it took from him. She was enjoying
watching him squirm and moan for her, and enjoying being able to talk dirty and
down to him all too much. She could get used to enjoying this very much.

“Hey… you know how you’re wearing my panties, right? The
ones you had an eye for.” Erica asked, her smile taking a slightly wicked curve.
Daniel simply nodded raggedly, not wanting to dig himself into any deeper a
hole or acknowledge the fact more than he could get away with. It seemed to be
enough for Erica, who instead of replying simply moved a hand, slow lifting up
the front of her skirt.

Her feet still sawed away at his cock, leaving the shaft to
pump and thrust between her feet rhythmically, but everything outside of that
curtain became a dull background effect to Daniel. Eyes fixed on that
black-and-white frilled skirt line, he witnessed the flash of thigh spilling
out of the stocking grow, the single garter strap running up her leg.

That strap, and the ever-rising curtain of the skirt was
leading his gaze to a shrouded valley of forbidden fruit. The more the skirt
raised and the further back he could see, the darker it became, but that
mattered little. There was nothing behind it, no contrast to the smooth skin of
her supple thigh.

A perfectly rounded peach was all Daniel could think to
compare to what came into sight between those spread and bowed legs pumping and
rubbing his cock. Hidden away in the shadow of her skirt, it was all but clear
enough. Daniel stared in a lustful rapture for those puffy mounds, so
distracted that he barely realised as – with one final, ragged moan – his cock
erupted between Erica’s feet, shooting thick jolts of cum over the sole and
back of her stocking-clad feet.

The shock of it made Erica drop her skirt immediately,
covering her bare thighs and pulling her feet away to stare at the slick cum
stains streaking them. It didn’t feel bad, but she wasn’t sure what to think of
it, as viscous and real as it was. She hadn’t been expecting it at all.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know it would!”
Daniel blustered, squirming and blushing a dark red as Erica simply stared at
him, quirking a little smile and shaking her head.

“I’ll forgive you this time, but we’re done here, I think.
Jeez, you really went and made a mess of them. Hm, before you go, I think
you’ve deserved a little present.” Erica declared, her smile taking on that
wicked glint as she moved her feet to wipe her sole off on Daniel’s chest and
get up.

“You won’t need these…” Erica explained, picking up the
clothing he’d stripped out of, placing it into a carrier bag before tying it
and opening the door to her dorm enough to slip out onto the balcony pathway
outside. Balanced on her good leg, she simply twisted and put all her strength
into throwing the clothes into the distance. Daniel stared, dumbfounded and
horrified.

“What… what did you just do? How am I supposed to get back
now?!” He almost shouted, making Erica tut and limp back in quickly to close
the door and not draw attention.

“You can use my clothes, obviously. You can keep the
panties, of course. I don’t want them back now, and, hmm…” She pondered,
looking around the room for more things and smiling quietly to herself.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. You got hard from wearing
my panties and came over my stockings, pervert. You even know what kind they
are and you were looking at my doll when you went through my bag, weren’t you?
You must really like that sort of thing.” Erica asked, her tone sharp and
demanding if slightly softer and more playful than before. The silence was a
good enough confession for Erica, and made her smile inwardly.

“Ah, I know.” She exclaimed, working the buttons at the
back of her simple dress and pulling a shoulder down before stopping and eyeing
the boy on his knees as though she’d forgotten he was there a moment. “Ah-ah,
no peaking.” Erica teased, stopping to get her simple black nightcap off the
bed and use it as a quick blindfold

With it in place, she slipped out of the dress and bra too,
standing naked but for the sleeve-gloves and stockings. She’d be keeping those.
Stood before him like that, knowing he couldn’t see her felt another guilty
pleasure and illicit thrill. Every marring tear, notch and scar across her
upper legs, thighs and above was on show, but he could see none of how ugly she
truly was under the dress.

Her thighs stood so close to his face that she wondered if
he could even smell her sex. Maybe one day, she thought, resting a hand on his
head to steady him. She just wanted to tease him a little and enjoy the feel of
his quick breathing on her mounds.

With him bound, it was easy enough to slip the bra around
his chest, tugging and stretching it a little to clip into place, but fit it
did. Sat behind him naked, Erica stroked and tweaked the soft fabric against
his chest, tweaking his nipples through the layer of silk with a playful laugh.

“Mmhm, see, I knew you’d enjoy this. I bet you’re going to
get hard again, aren’t you?” She chimed, smiling and getting up to take another
picture. That made him flinch and squirm like she’d slapped him, but he didn’t
plead for her to not do it. He knew that was pointless.

Happy with her photo, Erica returned to the dressing,
putting the frilly dress over his head and tugging it down into place.
Unlocking his hands let her guide and thread them into the top carefully,
tucking the sleeves up and setting the frills. It looked silly on him without
refitting, to be sure, but it had its charm.

“Hm, stand up. Let’s have a look at you.” Erica ordered,
offering a hand to help him up, seeing as his feet were still bound in the
spreader bar. The boy swallowed hard and struggled up with her help as asked,
showing off the full frill of the dress sitting around his figure.

“Oh yes, very cute. Come here, sit down.” Erica guided,
smiling quietly to herself and guiding the boy around to sit on the edge of the
chair so she could unbuckle his spreader bar and give him his shoes back. Those
were a bit more precious than to be giving him her own, and not nearly as easy
to fit.

“One more, then you can go.” Erica declared, taking a last
photo of the cutely dressed boy in the snug black dress that stopped just below
his waist to droop down in frills of black and white. Helping him up again, she
guided him to the door this time, and only then did he tense and speak up.

“You promise you’ll keep this a secret?” He asked, looking
back to her even though he had the blindfold cap on. Erica snorted in amusement,
shoved him out and patted his back gently.

“I promised, so long as you do the same. You’re on your
own, now, though.” Erica explained, taking her nightcap from him while her
nudity hid behind the door, swiftly closing it and locking him out on the
building’s balcony-hallway overlooking the small park his clothes had been
thrown to.

Even the light inside her dorm turned off, leaving Daniel
alone, outside, and in a girl’s dress. Shouting and knocking on the door would
draw attention, so he left, running as carefully as he could with the night
chill brushing his thighs and getting up the skirt. He needed to make sure no
one saw him, to get his clothes, key and get to his dorm.

Days passed until the pair meet again on more amicable and
open terms, across the width of a lecture hall. It was pleasing to think he’d
made it to his dorm unseen and without trouble, as she’d heard nothing to say
otherwise. Erica’s disposition was otherwise its usual stoic drawl, lacking
interest in everything and everyone around her, aside from the occasional
glances she made in Daniel’s direction before playing with her phone.

Attaching the last photo she’d taken, Erica sent him a
message to ask if he’d slept well. The immediate reaction almost made her burst
out laughing as he closed and hid his phone under the desk, staring over at her
imploringly as she simply turned away. That he still wanted to talk to her
later intrigued her, however. She couldn’t deny she wanted more of him too,
badly.

“No! Of course not…” Daniel replied, blustering and looking
around as though people might know from the quiet, goading question that he’d
gotten a taste for crossdressing. “But I… I couldn’t stop thinking about it,
everything you did, and how it felt.” He murmured, looking down at his and her
feet till Erica lifted his cheek to pat it lightly.

“Come to my dorm, tonight. I told you you’d enjoy it,
didn’t I?” Erica ordered, and so he had, whether he could accept the fact yet.
That night, when the sky gave to dusk, Daniel found himself on his knees before
the wicked woman again. This time his back was to her, Erica seeing to tucking
and fitting the dress to his figure.

“Well you’re right. If you’re going to be wearing it then
it should fit you properly.” Erica agreed, tucking and fixing the dress to his
figure, quietly shortening the skirt of it while she worked. “Though don’t
think I’m going doing this for free, I expect something back from you.”

“Well that depends on how far you want to go with this. I
think you’re already addicted though, so you’d do whatever I wanted, wouldn’t
you?” Erica asked, as much a declaration that made the boy in front of her
squirm and blush as he looked away from that more assured stare. Little did he
know that Erica had gotten as attached to the feelings and fun they’d shared,
and also wanted more. That was something he didn’t need to know, right now.

“Well, what if I would?” Daniel asked, meeting that gaze
again that stared down at him intently. A silence held between them for a long
minute before Erica finally broke the stillness with a quiet smile, her hands
coiling around Daniel’s neck as she leant down to whisper in his ear.

“You know that doll of mine?” Erica asked, and he simply
nodded. “I want to make the dress in proper size, but I need a model.” She
continued, stroking a finger in an idle circle around his chest. “It’s not
something I’d manage all in a day, either. That means you’re in this together
with me. You come when I call, do as I ask, and I will feed your little
addiction all you want. More than you could imagine.” Erica explained, her
smile thin and stare sharp. He didn’t need to know he was feeding her
addiction, she barely knew it even had a name herself, yet.

“I… that’s…” Daniel muttered, staring up into her eyes as
she stared down at his. ‘You’re a witch’, he wanted to say it, but still
couldn’t bring himself to summon the thought. He knew he was dancing in the
palm of her hand, somehow, but serving her, enjoying what she did with him,
free of judgement felt dizzying, liberating and constricting all at once.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Erica explained, standing
and slowly circling him in the striped sock-stockings and decorative little
black corset-skirt number that hugged and tucked her long-sleeved white shirt
away without clenching her figure too tightly. A little more homely, tonight,
but for someone yet testing the waters of being a mistress, Erica already had
the affinity for kinkier clothing.

“All you need to do is pledge yourself to me, right here.”
Erica explained, quietly if not at all timidly. Her order was clear, but not
one she was comfortable enough to say loudly just yet, as she lifted the hem of
that sheer black skirt. She was putting a lot of trust in him, she realised, as
she’d not bound him at all. He could do anything, and that thrill of
uncertainty in whether the power was hers excited her more than she expected.

The lip of her skirt raised, and from beneath, the smooth
heart-curve of sensitive skin hidden away behind a translucent black sheen of
panties that hugged and emphasised every little curve and tuck. Daniel moved in
on that revealing mound with wide eyes as hand rested on his head.

“Don’t just stare at it, show me.” Erica whispered, pulling
gently on his hair to bring him closer to that sweet, hidden grove of a silken
sheet. The scent to greet Daniel’s quick breaths was divine. A natural, musky
scent of intimate heat twined with the sharpness of silk overlaying it. The
scent and sight of the lingerie, of the little nook riding up between the
mounds made him want to press his lips in against them ravenously. To submit to
her will and do as she wished. Daniel’s lips touched to silk, and his hands
reached for her thighs.

“Wait, no, hands here. Don’t move them.” Erica requested,
moving his hands to her stockings where it was safest. Accepting him did not
mean coming to comfort with her body so fully. With his hands in place, Erica
pushed gently on the back of his head, and felt his lips embrace her. Such a
soft, gentle squeeze that Erica almost couldn’t feel it, but the tingling rush
was there.

Leaving the skirt to droop down over his head, Erica placed
both hands into his hair, hugging and pressing him in encouragingly as much as
to support and hold herself steady. Those lips parted, pulled back and gingerly
kissed the silk again as if tempting and teasing the mounds beyond with a
wakening caress. From how Erica’s breath drew quicker as she stared down
intently, it was working. Erica felt a warmth of pleasure she wanted more of
already.

He moved again, and this time his tongue drew a thick, wet
line between that central fold, riding it all the way to the little bean at the
head. Erica had to struggle to not gasp from the burst of pleasure that lanced
out of that lick. She wanted to pull away and ask what the damn pervert thought
he was doing, but could only hug herself closer.

That tongue slid back down, replaced by the tender suckling
of the boy’s lips on her panties. Even without making direct contact, that
feeling was going to drive her crazy if he kept it up. Standing over him with
his face buried in her crotch, Erica wanted nothing else, and he seemed to
understand.

The gentle kisses picked up pace and force, squeezing and
tugging the wondrous mixture of a scent from her dampening panties. That in
turn only encouraged him to continue – licking more firmly and drawing his
kisses till he pulled the silken cloth away with each one before letting it
slap back into place. Erica simply let the lapping affection continue until –
before either of them knew what was happening – she had forced him back into
the chair. One of her tall knee socks bent to rest on the chair beside his head
as she smothered and grinded down on his face.

Daniel never stopped, tried to move his hands or pull the
panties aside. Though breathing grew difficult and her scent filled his head
with a dizzying, heady haze, he only wanted more of her taste. Simple, wordless
lust overtook the both of them, leaving Erica to grind and rut her mounds into
the stabbing and lapping tongue forcefully with sharp and long moans from each
burst of pleasure.

She continued for several hazy, passionate minutes, pinning
Daniel’s head against the chair to grind and ride out her lust until the
swelling ball of pleasure finally came to a head, setting off an explosion of
bliss in her stomach. With it, she tensed and quivered on the spot, arcing
forward to the point of falling forward in a slump onto the chair as she rode
out her wracking peak.

“Haah… damn… pervert.” She whispered, hugging his head
against her before gently slipping off to slump into the chair, her legs draped
over his shoulder as he sat breathless and dazzled from the onslaught. It had
been more than a pledge or promise, but it had fuelled the newfound dependency
on one another they had found, without either truly admitting its existence.

*

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